Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary
by Ryeloza
Summary: Preston receives unsolicited advice after the borscht incident. Takes place during "My Two Young Men."


**Disclaimer: **_Desperate Housewives _in no way belongs to me. I just need a way to pass the summer.

**Story Summary: **Preston receives unsolicited advice after the borscht incident. Takes place during "My Two Young Men."

**Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary, How Does Your Garden Grow?**

A story by **Ryeloza**

After Irina stormed out, time seemed to freeze indefinitely. For an endless moment, he stood and stared at his mother covered in borscht; waited for his father to make a move; imagined the one hundred possible reactions his mother might have, ranging from incredulous laughter to a demand that Irina leave the house. Unfortunately for Preston, none of the possibilities he anticipated actually occurred. Instead, when time finally moved forward, the first action from his mother was a deep sob before she dissolved into tears. To see his mother cry made Preston's heart stop; he felt torn equally by guilt and a childlike need to comfort her, but he could think of nothing to do but stand there and stare. The world suddenly ceased to make sense.

"Preston, hand me that towel." His father's words finally snapped Preston from his shock and he quickly snatched a towel off of the counter and handed it over. Gently his dad wiped what remained of the borscht from his mom's face and then, without heed to spreading the mess, she buried her face in his chest and continued to weep. "Come on, let's get you upstairs and clean up." With one last glance at Preston, his dad wrapped an arm around his mother's shoulders and led her toward the stairs. They were out of sight on the staircase when Preston heard his sister's voice: "What's wrong?"

"There was an…incident," his father said. "Dinner might be a little late."

"Oh." There was a pause and then Preston heard Penny's light-as-a-feather feet continue down the stairs. When she arrived in the kitchen, she took one look around the messy room and then glanced at Preston curiously. "What happened?"

Preston scratched the back of his head. "Well, Mom and Irina had a fight."

"A food fight?"

"Not exactly." Penny crossed her arms and gave him a look that echoed one he'd seen from their father many times. It was a demand to hear the whole story before deciding whether to be amused or angry. He sighed. "Mom said some stuff to Irina and she got mad and threw the borscht at Mom."

"She threw dinner at Mom?"

"She was upset! Mom said some pretty horrible stuff."

"So?"

Preston frowned, annoyed. It was one thing to be judged by his parents, but coming from his little sister it was extremely obnoxious. What right did she have to condemn Irina's actions? "What do you mean 'so?'?"

"Last month Aiden Kendall called me a stuck up bitch because I said I wouldn't be his girlfriend."

"What?"

Penny gave a long-suffering sigh that would have been world-weary from someone older; coming from a kid it could almost have been amusing if the situation weren't so horrifying. "We were in the lunch line and Mrs. O'Dell overheard and Aiden ended up getting detention for three weeks, so he got his. But you didn't see me throwing my lunch all over him, did you?"

Preston stared at Penny: her blond pigtails and big, innocent eyes and babyish shape of her face. This story was inexplicable. "He called you a bitch?"

"You're missing the point!"

Preston couldn't quite agree; some creep calling his baby sister a bitch seemed to be exactly the point. "Do Mom and Dad know about that?"

"Pres-_ton_!"

"Okay, okay. You didn't throw your lunch at him," conceded Preston, vowing to bring up the subject to their parents later. "But that's different, Penny. Mom and Irina are family."

"No, they're not." Penny said this as though he was an idiot, but he wasn't going to argue the semantics of the definition with a child. For Penny, the world was still as simple as this boring house on this boring street and the most important people in the world were the ones living here. She was still years away from realizing how much bigger and better the world was outside of Wisteria Lane. "Besides," she added, "does that make it okay?"

"No," he said. The word came out before he even thought about the question and he was a little startled by the automaticity of his response. No matter how offensive his mother had been, he still felt a childlike protectiveness of her. No one was allowed to make her cry. No one was allowed to hurt her. Still, Irina was going to be his wife. There had to be exceptions. "But it should make it forgivable."

Penny shrugged. The action seemed to say that she thought she was being magnanimous by not arguing and Preston once again marveled at how frustrating it was to have his little sister act like she was more mature than he was. "I'm going to call Porter and tell him to bring back a pizza. Do you want some?"

"I…I should go find Irina," Preston realized dimly.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yeah, save us a couple slices." Preston headed toward the door. Irina was probably in the park. Where else was there to go here at night with no car? Of course, if she wasn't there that—

"Why do you love her?" asked Penny suddenly, cutting off his train of thought. He turned back to face her.

"What?"

"It's just weird. You're going to _marry_ her and that means you'll be together, like, forever. Like Mom and Dad." Preston shuddered at the thought of him and Irina turning into his parents. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with them, but they were just so…Mom and Dad. Unaware of his thoughts, Penny continued her little speech matter-of-factly. "Daddy told me once that he loves Mom because she has a hundred different smiles. Isn't that just the most romantic thing ever?"

"Um—"

"So why do you love Irina?"

Preston quickly dismissed the twenty things that weren't appropriate to tell his preteen sister and tried to think of something that would satisfy this sudden feminine need for romance that he would have never associated with Penny. She was still playing with Barbies before he went to Europe. But Irina didn't have a hundred different smiles; just one. "She's…smart," he finally said, though he knew for a fact that Penny was already more well-read than Irina. "And funny. Yeah, she makes me laugh."

Penny shook her head sadly. "She threw our dinner at Mom and made her cry. She made _Mom_ cry. I don't get it, Preston."

Penny picked up the cordless phone and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. As she dialed Porter's number, Preston realized that she'd just unceremoniously dismissed him. She didn't want to hear anything else he said. She didn't want to listen to his side of the story any more. He felt like he should expect—or demand—more from her. But, then, Penny was still a child.

What did she know?


End file.
